The Pleasure Bot
by thebrokencradle
Summary: It was too dangerous to rewire his entire nervous system. Hence why all he could feel was pleasure. Slash. Not for young readers.


AN: This is based off of a strange idea that Perceptor was a masochist. While this isn't exactly that he enjoys pain but can only experience pleasure, i believe that it is close enough to make young, tender, impressionable minds have reason to look away. SLASH. Don't likey? Don't read-y! Comments are love, flames and nasty comments will be used to toast marshmallows.

It was as strange as it was convenient, really, that Perceptor's nerve receptors be wired in such a way. That didn't make the current show any less disturbing, though.

Ever since Perceptor could remember his nerve wires had been reversed. Those that were usually wired to transmit pain were programmed to transmit pleasure. It was an odd phenomena that Perceptor was sure was something to do with him being defective on the assembly line. It was too dangerous to try and correct the malfunction and so Perceptor had remained that way, only feeling pleasure and never suffering pain. On the one hand, it was handy whenever he was being painfully put back together that he feel some amount of warm, tingling pleasure, but on the other it was a weakness that the Decepticons could mercilessly exploit once they discovered it.

"Ah… Ah!" Perceptor threw his head back as Megatron's sharp fangs sank into his shoulder plating and began to slowly tear it off, the large Decepticon's clawed hands grasping Perceptor's own delicate ones painfully tight as the microscope was forced to display his vulnerable protoform to his imprisoned comrades.

"You love this, don't you?" Megatron growled, chuckling into Perceptor's neck as he dropped the raggedly torn armor piece to the ground with a clatter, raking his eyes hungrily over Perceptor's thin form. "Love me tearing into you, breaking you, destroying you, using you and just outright fucking you…" the human obscenity on Megatron's velvet voice made Perceptor shudder and whimper as he was pulled back against the pit-fighter's broad silver chassis.

Megatron looked up at the outraged faces of the other Autobots, gagged and chained as they were to prevent them from trying to "save" their comrade. The warlord grinned and licked a tender line up Perceptor's neck, jaw and audial to roughly bite at his audial, eleciting a cry of pure pleasure from the microscope.

"Isn't he glorious?" Megatron growled towards the others, forcing Perceptor's pleasure shot gaze towards them. He gave a long, slow lick to the mech's audial, one of his hands moving to spread Perceptor's legs and lift one of his thighs to expose his dripping, wide port, lubricant smearing over Megatron's fingers and Perceptor's thighs. "Don't you just want to devour him from the inside out?"

Perceptor gasped and moaned as two fingers roughly plunged into him, bucking and fairly screaming with pleasure at the rough intrusion.

"So eager…" Megatron growled, scraping his servos along the delicate inner tubing of the port, grinning at the choked gasp and sobs of pleasure. "I might not send you back, like I promised Prime…" Megatron whispered, pumping his fingers twice before adding a third digit. "I might keep you as a pet, chain you to my berth and 'face you until you don't know anything but my designation."

Perceptor gasped and shuddered at the words and the image they conjoured in his mind, sobbing loudly when Megatron added a fourth finger. Wide blue optics stared up at Megatron and his free hand grasped the side of his helm, whimpering and trying to force it off with shaking hands.

"Hmm… Ah-ah-ah, you haven't been a good enough pet for that…" Megatron chuckled, nipping Perceptor's fingers harshly. Perceptor shuddered as Megatron managed to wriggle his thumb into his stretched port along with the other fingers, slowly pumping his fist in and out of the stretched port.

Preceptor gasped and writhed, his own hand sliding down Megatron's wrist to slide one of his own fingers in, bucking his hips to encourage Megatron to go faster. Megatron grinned, rubbing his pelvic armor against Perceptor's aft, causing the scientist to mewl and thrust back, banging against the painfully tight metal as his hand abandoned his own port and went to his spike housing. He rubbed the cover to his spike, feeling the thin plates snapping open after a moment and beginning to pump himself in time with Megatron's rough fisting of his port, squeezing and scraping his fingertips over the hard length every so often. Megatron grinned at the sight and reached over with his other hand, beginning to roughly fist Perceptor's spike as well.

Perceptor gasped, mewled, shrieked, panted, writhed, whimpered and incoherently begged as he crested his overload, electricity crackling over the conductive lubricant covering his lower regions, small sparks dancing up Megatron's arm, leaving him tingling with pleasure. When Perceptor overloaded he threw his head back and went eerily silent, mouth gaping wide and optic shutters dilated to their widest possible setting. He stiffened and arched his back struts sharply before he suddenly slumped, offline and limp in Megatron's arms. Megatron smirked and dropped the Autobot, staring at his lubricant stained hand. He sauntered forward to one of his prisoners, Smokestack or Smokescream or something of the sort, and smirked at the livid expression in the blue optics – they promised murder and energon. He reached up, bringing his purple lubricant stained hand up between them, and licked his fingers, suckling on them loudly and cleaning his hand slowly. When he was finished he grinned and stared at the offline body on the ground.

"I see why you Autobots keep him around, he's such a good little whore."

Smokescreen tried to lunge forward, gnawing at his gag and struggling against his chains, the Datsun jerking and growling angrily. Megatron laughed at the display, walking out of the prison with the intent to send someone down to retrieve his new toy.

He had to admit, Perceptor would look incredibly attractive with his insignia on his chest and chained to his throne with a nice collar around his neck…

*

Megatron sat on his throne, watching the screen as Optimus Prime tried to bargain with him for prisoners. The larger mech's attention was constantly pulled away by the blue-eyed creature sprawled across Megatron's legs, head nestled in the silver warlord's lap. Perceptor didn't look at his leader, too lost in the haze of pleasure coursing through his circuits. Specially placed spikes in the collar around his neck and the harnesses around his torso and legs constantly aggravated and worked his sensor net, keeping him on the brink of losing his mind to pleasure. Megatron would occasionally reach down and tug at Perceptor's collar, causing the dark helm to loll back strutlessly against his thick thighs and his crotchplate, Perceptor's hands digging into Megatron's calves and bootplates in retaliation.

Optimus would stare at the writhing scientist before clearing his vocalize and returning his attention to Megatron's face. Only for his gaze to be drawn once more to Perceptor as the mech teetered on the edge of overload after overload.

Megatron had to admit, Perceptor had changed quite a bit since Megatron had taken him to be his pet and sparkmate. Perceptor's armor had been thinned but his paintjob remained much the same. His light cannon had been removed as well as his pelvic and chest armor, covered only by a thin, flexible mesh. He greatly resembled the pleasure models from Kaon now, with the lack of armor making his slender protoform look extremely exotic.

Of course, many Decepticons had attempted to force themselves on Perceptor, but a few harsh beatings had settled the matter and now anyone who even looked at the small Autobot slave wrong would find themselves on the business end of Megatron's fusion cannon.

"I am willing to give over two of your constructicons in exchange for my two warriors."

"The constructicons and the conehead trineleader." Megatron ordered, noticing that Perceptor was standing up, lithe form stretching in front of the screen.

"Conehead…" Optimus' optics flickered before he snapped back to Megatron. "No deal, Megatron." He stated firmly, optics glazing as Perceptor leaned over Megatron's arm, sprawling against the Warlord's side wantonly, whining for attention from his master like a well trained turbo-fox.

"Then your precious warriors will rot in their cells."

"The constructicons and the conehead in exchange for the frontliners and the minibot." Optimus bargained and Megatron nodded as his face was turned to kiss Perceptor's, the smaller bot moaning and undulating freely against the silver chassis.

"Deal?" Megatron pulled away from Perceptor momentarily, a trail of oral fluids keeping their mouths connected.

"Deal." Optimus managed before the line was cut.

Perceptor grinned now that he had his master's full attention and slid his hands underneath Megatron's helmet, tossing it aside and revealing the long gold embelished crests that twitched and clicked as they unfurled. Megatron smirked and leaned down to capture his slave's mouth once more, relishing in his conquest.


End file.
